Maine Authors: The Grand Old Man

I spent close to two decades living Away, and I can tell you: let a group of Iowans know that you are from Maine, and someone is bound to mention Stephen King.

I made up a lot of lies about Maine - I used to tell people, for instance, that you had to register your chickens like dogs, and that everyone has a snowmobile, because there's only one road. I never had to make up a story about Stephen King, though: the truth was more than enough.

I'm not a big fan of horror as a genre. Dean Koontz leaves me cold. I love King, though, for his characters.

[Herein follows a rant about writers and characters. Tl;dr: most writers create cardboard cutouts of characters. If you're a writer, don't do that.]

Begin rant: I'll read anything; the back of a cereal box if nothing else is available. In seeming paradox, I am also a very fussy reader - I read many many books, complaining all the while (often on twitter!) about giant holes in the plot, improbable plot twists, and most of all bad characters. Before I got most of my books on Kindle, I was occasionally known to throw a paperback across the room in response to an unusually bad bit of dialogue.

I read a lot of crime fiction, and in that genre, female characters are often written particularly poorly. Sometimes the only female characters in the book are the past, current, or potential sexual interests of the male hero. Look around the world, crime writers! Do you see any women you haven't and don't plan on fucking? Lots of them, right? Take a clue. (HAHA get it? A clue?? ) Stereotypes abound in crime fiction, as a result of the use of female characters as a plot device, rather than actual developed characters. The tough cookie, the ingenue, the socialite, the bitch.

It's a bee up my nose, for sure, but it's also the proverbial canary in the coal mine: if your female characters are wooden, your male characters probably aren't great either.

Emphasis on physical description is a symptom. Honestly I think all writers should remove the word "beautiful" from their vocabularies, except (maybe) for use in dialogue. It's lazy. If your character (male or female) is meant to be attractive, you can lightly sketch an appearance, and let us deduce attractiveness from other characters' interactions - if it even matters. Often we don't need to know what someone looks like at all. The waitress can show her dimples to your hero, and we get that she is flirting, regardless of whether or not she is pretty. Tangential to this point, if you have to tell me one character has feelings for another, you're doing it wrong. That is maybe the easiest thing in the world to demonstrate. The old adage is none the less true for its hoariness: show, don't tell.

[End rant]

Which brings me back to King. His latest trilogy is a set of crime dramas (with a bit of the supernatural...he is still King, after all) which feature retired detective Bill Hodges. Hodges has sidekicks, supporting characters, and adversaries...none of whom he is hoping to fuck! Imagine it. One of three main characters is a woman, and nowhere do we discover whether the average guy would want to fuck her! She has her personal strengths, weaknesses, and quirks, but she stands on her own, a fully formed character, not merely a device to create situations for Hodges.

The same is true of all of his characters: they have flaws, they have struggles, and as a result they feel real. I care what happens to them. When they triumph - not just over the bad guy but over their own weaknesses - I exult with them. It's why I always loved King's work even when he only (or mostly) wrote horror. Write good characters, and I am yours for life.

Anyway: if you haven't read these books, you want to. If you've passed over anything with the Stephen King name on it because horror is not your bag, give Bill Hodges a whirl.

Books by Maine Authors: Monica Wood, One-in-a-Million Boy

Of the many Maine authors whose works I follow, perhaps my favorite is Monica Wood. Her debut novel, Any Bitter Thing, was luminous and entrancing, and I was immediately a fan. A memoir, When We Were the Kennedys, followed, which I loved for many reasons, not least that it's always a thrill to recognize the locations I am reading about, and to know people who live similar lives.

Now Monica Wood has a new book: The One-in-a-Million Boy. I just purchased it and can't wait to get reading!

Here's what Amazon has to say about it:

The incandescent story of a 104-year-old woman and the sweet, strange young boy assigned to help her around the house — a friendship that touches each member of the boy’s unmoored family

For years, guitarist Quinn Porter has been on the road, chasing gig after gig, largely absent to his twice-ex-wife Belle and their odd, Guinness records–obsessed son. When the boy dies suddenly, Quinn seeks forgiveness for his paternal shortcomings by completing the requirements for his son’s unfinished Boy Scout badge.

 

For seven Saturdays, Quinn does yard work for Ona Vitkus, the wily 104-year-old Lithuanian immigrant the boy had visited weekly. Quinn soon discovers that the boy had talked Ona into gunning for the world record for Oldest Licensed Driver — and that’s the least of her secrets. Despite himself, Quinn picks up where the boy left off, forging a friendship with Ona that allows him to know the son he never understood, a boy who was always listening, always learning.
 

The One-in-a-Million Boy is a richly layered novel of hearts broken seemingly beyond repair and then bound by a stunning act of human devotion.

When I dive into to a book, I sometimes don't come up for air until I am finished, so it may be awhile before I post again. No worries: I am happily lost in Monica Wood's fictional world.

Dividing Day

My shopping list for today:

• Seep hose
• 50' extension cord
• Mulch

It's the last weekend in September - time to divide the perennials, dig up the neglected beds, and mulch for the winter.

When I started perennial gardening, tumpty-ump years ago in St. Paul Minnesota, I thought I was doing it because it was less work than planting annuals. I like stuff that stays planted! I used to stay. Right? Just plant it and then relax and watch it bloom for years to come.

ROFLMFAO, as we used to say.

In reality, perennial gardening demands composting, weeding, mulching, dividing, and moving plants that are didn't get the memo to bloom where you are planted.

Without attention, by fall, a perennial bed will look kind of like this:

Dry, crowded, weedy. This bed needs to be dug out, the keepers set aside, the weeds pulled, and the dirt mixed with compost and replaced. Either the bed will have to get larger or I will have to discard some plants, because they have all thrived so well they are crowding each other out. I just redid a smaller bed, which now looks like this:

Expanding the bed means even more work next year - and more mulch, which gets expensive. In past I have not had the heart to discard perfectly good plants, so I expand the beds, or start new ones.

Then I started reading The Right Size Flower Garden, by Maine author Kerry Ann Mendez. After some life changes left her with less time and energy to devote to her perennials, Mendez had a choice: let the garden fall into disarray, or limit the garden to the space she could take care of. The book details shrinking beds, planning garden care, and choosing plants that require little attention. I've already started, with two raised bed which were, after many years, too shady for their inhabitants. Pull 'em out, sod 'em over!

Each year, of course, the garden is all about next year's garden: when this finally blooms or that fills in.  This fall I am excited for next year, when I will (hopefully) have time to keep the remaining beds looking sharp all season.

Ringo Monogatari

A Tale of Apples

A folkloric tale with modern sly wit. Ringoko must help Henji recover his heart, lost to a mountain witch, if he is to live - but first she must persuade him he wants it back! This adventure story with the faintest blush of romance winds through Japanese mythology in a charming narrative.

I had the good fortune to meet the author, Rebecca Silverman, at her home on North Haven. I first took her for a college student; when she told me she is in fact a professor, I looked again to see that she is older than I thought, well and truly a grown up. She has an ethereal quality which I credit for my first impression, an innocence, as one whose heart is too tender for this world. This was reinforced as I met several of her cats, all rescues of one stripe or another. Rebecca has spent a lot of time in Japan, soaking up the legends. Ringoko, her heroine, though kind, is not tender!

Her sister, Jennifer, illustrated the book - also a magnet for cats in need of love! Jennifer is gregarious and open, a painter as well as an illustrator. In fact the whole family are creatives - their mother is a weaver; their father a potter; another sister, Marjorie Skiva, is the author of Seeking Shelter (and another cat lover!)

This is a unique book by a Maine author, engaging but light, a great summer read.